"Oh," Martin says stupidly, nodding without quite looking at John. "Right." Makes sense. Sounds nice. Simple, meaningless phrases that die before he can voice them. He's still waking up, getting his bearings, and that makes for an easier delaying tactic than the weight of his own uncertainty. Not just whether he's allowed to take what John's offering, if it's even worth any kneejerk resistance when he is offering, but... what it means to have it offered.
Knowing that John is kind — that he has patience, gentleness, and care in his heart — it doesn't feel like a surprise, but it does feel like he's cheating, somehow. Skipped to the back of a book and now can't see how even the inevitable end was reached. And it feels like none of this should be for him. It's for some other Martin, who's earned that care, who nurtured it out and was nurtured in response. Something happened between them that he now can't remember, and it makes his heart ache like he's lost something, even when he hasn't. If anything, this is more like gaining something he never knew he could have.
It's too much, and too much to worry about when all that John's offering is a bit of stability after a terrible dream. Not too much to accept, surely. Not something he should deny. Not something he wants to deny.
Christ, when was the last time his mother even comforted him after a nightmare?
"O-okay," he says shakily, after a slightly too-long pause. "Yeah, that... I think that'd be good." He fidgets a little, unable to think of anything to talk about, unable to think of anything that isn't the too-near dream. But John's hand is on his back. Rubbing slowly, warm and comforting, and... and that's something. He shuts his eyes and breathes out slowly, willing himself to see nothing there but unmoving darkness.
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Knowing that John is kind — that he has patience, gentleness, and care in his heart — it doesn't feel like a surprise, but it does feel like he's cheating, somehow. Skipped to the back of a book and now can't see how even the inevitable end was reached. And it feels like none of this should be for him. It's for some other Martin, who's earned that care, who nurtured it out and was nurtured in response. Something happened between them that he now can't remember, and it makes his heart ache like he's lost something, even when he hasn't. If anything, this is more like gaining something he never knew he could have.
It's too much, and too much to worry about when all that John's offering is a bit of stability after a terrible dream. Not too much to accept, surely. Not something he should deny. Not something he wants to deny.
Christ, when was the last time his mother even comforted him after a nightmare?
"O-okay," he says shakily, after a slightly too-long pause. "Yeah, that... I think that'd be good." He fidgets a little, unable to think of anything to talk about, unable to think of anything that isn't the too-near dream. But John's hand is on his back. Rubbing slowly, warm and comforting, and... and that's something. He shuts his eyes and breathes out slowly, willing himself to see nothing there but unmoving darkness.